[Deleted]

Fawn

holding the light for the ones that we guide through the dark of despair

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The sun was sinking low as the deputy made his way slowly along the RainClan border. The evening patrol had just passed, heading in the opposite direction, offering a brief report of quiet. Wolfclaw didn't join them on the rest of their journey, though. He hadn't been on the border in a while, and though he trusted his patrols to report thoroughly, the recent silence on the border had him curious.

His pace was slow but steady; he was in no rush tonight. His greenish-yellow eyes skimmed the RainClan side of the stream with a mild curiosity, wondering what had happened that they should fall quiet. It didn't worry him that they could be planning another attack; those usually came with warning signs: increased patrols, higher aggression, and calculated advances across borders. Silence was not usually an indication of pending danger.

So he walked and wondered, relaxed, letting his mind drift. He thought of his Clan, of the harsh leafbare, of a certain quiet tortoiseshell, of RainClan's silence, of how the other Clans were faring, of how prey was running, of how his Clan was healing. He thought of everything and nothing, never focusing on one thought for very long.

His paws drifted closer to the stream, and he paused a moment, lowering his head to drink. The cool water soothed his throat and calmed his mind. He let his eyes close and breathed deeply, the quiet twilight air cooling and relaxing.

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W O L F C L A W

[Fawn]

Violetclaw
44 Moons. RainClan. Warrior. She-Cat.

    The contrast was sharp between the two; physically, the silvery leopard-spotted she-cat and the silver and black toned StoneClan tom had some similarity, but their lives couldn't have been more different. As he approached the stone stream almost sedately, she had shouldered her way through the clumps of reeds and other bank-side plants to quench her thirst in the small flow of water that was the boundary line between their two Clans.

Senses acute, she was aware of a StoneClan patrol having passed this way, the markings fresh - and it was the freshness that had masked Wolfclaw's overall scent. A drop of water clung to the she-cat's whiskers, her posture radiating defensiveness upon spotting him, her hackles lowering once she got over the initial surprise.

Wolfclaw. If StarClan was trying to shove the title of deputy in her face, like a piece of meat dangled out for bait, they were doing an excellent job of it. Violetclaw sat down on her side of the bank, rubbing a damp paw over her muzzle in an almost agitated motion, the flicking of her tail betraying her present emotional state. Timberwing had become deputy of RainClan, and Razorfang had had his status elevated to Razorstar; from her perspective, things in RainClan were not going anywhere near how she had anticipated or even wanted.

Razorstar's ascension had been unavoidable, but his choice of another non-Clanborn feline as his deputy had come as a smack in the jaw; they had exchanged words before, cleared the air a little, but that didn't mean she was ready to bow down and accept every single decision he ever made for what it was, despite the warrior code calling for this. Yet nor could she challenge him, the only option left was to coldly turn her back to these things that would cause her more stress and frustration, and somehow try to keep doing what she always did.

Looking out for the Clan.

After a while, Violetclaw's eyes lifted to settle upon Wolfclaw's, taking in the deep green-yellow orbs framed within a very dark-furred face; his colors were unusual to the point that she could say she'd never seen a cat with his visage in the entirety of her lifespan. Was he StoneClan born? She had never before thought it likely that a cat could be mixed with something else that wasn't a cat, but for the briefest of heartbeats, she wondered just how accurate the StoneClan deputy's name was.

"Why do you look that way?" Yes, her question was blunt, bordering on rude towards a tom who was by all accounts, massive. But she had asked it anyway, her fascination brief and also suspicious; did he have something, some sort of condition that made his fur such an unusual pattern?

[Deleted]

Fawn

He drew back from the stream, having drank his fill, and looked up to see a RainClan warrior staring at him. Silver and black with yellow eyes, he recognised her face before he remembered her name. From the sharp swipe of her paw over her muzzle and the flick of her tail, he could see something had the she-cat on edge. He rose from his crouch and settled himself on his haunches, staring across the stream calmly.

"Why do you look that way?" Wolfclaw was a little taken aback by the way she spoke. It was a question he had heard many times before, but he had never had it brought up so sharply and be the first words out of another's mouth. Typically it would be greetings and a little small talk, but she seemed uninterested in that and just cut to the chase.

He blinked his green-gold eyes a few times. Taking a moment to collect his thoughts, he took a steady breath. "I'm not sure. From what I've been told, I was black when I was born. A few weeks later, I started to fade out, and I've been like this since my warrior ceremony," he explained. His voice was steady and calm, as though he were discussing the weather with a cat of his own Clan, rather than talking about a small facet of his life with a cat from another Clan.

"No cat can seem to explain it. My parents were baffled, the medicine cat clueless. I don't mind, though. It's just a part of who I am. There's nothing I can do to change it, so I just accept it and move on." Wolfclaw looked at Violetclaw with a small smile. Deciding on a change of topic, he spoke again.

"How are you, Violetclaw?" He wanted to ask more, to ask about the quiet on the border, wanting to know if something was wrong in their Clan. Not, however, for information that would give StoneClan the upper paw; he wanted to know if there was anything he could do to help, as a cat, rather than a rival deputy. But he held back, knowing she would see it for what it wasn't, a ploy for crippling intel.

He might be deputy of a different Clan, but he was still a cat of kindness, who was willing to put others before himself, no matter their loyalties.

---

W O L F C L A W

[Fawn]

Violetclaw
44 Moons. RainClan. Warrior. She-Cat.

    The way the she-cat's mind worked, even social interaction was weighed upon a scale of How can talking to you be of benefit to me and how can talking to you be of benefit to the Clan? Accepting the information from Wolfclaw, now finding the answer much more trivial than she'd been expecting, the black rosettes glinted in a backdrop of silver as the sunlight warmed her flank and shoulder, yellow eyes fixed on the odd-colored tom across the stone stream. Violetclaw was not so hostile to outsiders that she would outright walk away as if they weren't worth wasting any words on; moons of social engagement at the frequent gatherings has let her sharpen her conversational skills into more tools to add to her arsenal, though she much prefers action and reaction to polite chatter.

"I am well, RainClan is thriving. It was kind of you to ask." It was a well known fact that if RainClan was doing well, she herself was doing well. In truth, RainClan was lacking in apprentices - only 3 or 4, which was worrisome to the she-cat who kept an eye on everything to do with her own Clan, but she was not about to share that knowledge with the deputy of StoneClan. The bitter, bloody taste of war would always spring to her mind when she saw a StoneClan cat; when she looked in Wolfclaw's eyes, the fury of StormClan -- that dreaded alliance that had ended so many lives on all sides - whispered in her ears like the poisonous hiss of a snake. Was she expecting hostility from StoneClan in return? Absolutely. Had the situation been reversed, had it been the earthen might of StoneClan that came crashing down upon them, driving them from their island home and into the mountains (which would have surely spelt extermination for a fish-eating Clan), the pure, undiluted hatred she would have for their aggressors would be enough to shorten her lifespan, as if the temperature at which her rage burned would age her prematurely.

And yet here was the deputy of StoneClan, asking her how she was as though she were a distant Clanmate, not the face of a nightmare passed. Violetclaw was torn between immense respect for the tom to lay down his ire with little internal turmoil over the decision, and disgust for how social he was being after all that they had done to StoneClan. So it was with a mixture of both churning around in her stomach that she spoke again, the words flowing out ones she hadn't anticipated saying anytime soon. "How is your Clan?"

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Word Count: 433 Words
Tags: Amber